


Let the Mind Games Begin

by IronMum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), FebuWhump2021, Gen, Illusions, Imma hit Peter with a train, Joke its BARF, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Quentin Beck Being a Jerk, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMum/pseuds/IronMum
Summary: Febuwhump Day 20: Betrayal"You can’t trick me anymore, Quentin," he called out, eyes darting around the room for any sense of reality. This was like nothing he had ever faced before and it was having an effect on his Spidey Sense."Who said anything about tricks?" A voice seemed to echo everywhere around him."I trusted you, Beck!" Peter painfully admitted, the betrayal in his voice heavily evident."I tried to help you. I tried to help you see the light. But you wouldn’t listen. You did this, Peter! Tony wants to use your knowledge for his gain. It’s what he did to me. It’s what he’s done all of his life."The white walls began to simmer away with a blue flickering light, finally revealing the true location to Peter. It looked like he was in some sort of abandoned warehouse. He could see now that the floor was scattered with glass, debris and dead leaves throughout. The decrepit structure had gaping windows and old, damaged beams. His ears picked up no sounds or signs of activity outside the area and he could only wonder where he had been taken.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	Let the Mind Games Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kevy_Grayce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kevy_Grayce/gifts).



> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic!  
> Just a heads up that similar to Far From Home's illusion scene we do have a couple of zombie like characters to haunt our favourite Spiderling.

Just before the windows were within reach, Peter heard and felt the crunch of what sounded like broken glass under his trainers. He tilted his head in confusion as he eyed the porcelain tiles underneath him, seeming to look as pristine as ever. A tingle shot down his spine and he turned one-eighty, swinging a punch only to find his fist connecting with nothing but a solid wall. He barely had time to try and shake the pain away before he felt something pass him by at high speed. 

The whole mission had been a complete shamble and Peter was already riddled with feeling like a failure. After a fake rescue mission he had been lured into, he’d ended up in the hands of the bad side. They’d done their utmost to convince him he had been fighting on the wrong side, the manipulation tactics so strong Peter had almost fallen for it. The evidence had been compelling, videos and recordings done so well it would take the keenest of eyes to detect any doctoring. The final straw for the short stay had been when he overheard two of the fake SHIELD agents discussing their actual plans. ‘Ben’ had turned out to be Quentin Beck. Former ex-Stark employee who was so hung up on a nickname given to his technology that he’d gone as far as to conspire the murder of Tony Stark. They’d intended to dispose of Peter once they used him like salt on an injury to the Avengers and anyone who stood in their way.

When a noise darted past him again he lashed out, missing the invisible device. In a moment of despair and frustration, he started firing webs all around the room before aiming upwards in the hope of getting to higher ground. Finally, a web latched onto something, not that he could see what as it seemed to disappear within the realms of the current illusion he was being surrounded with. With a gentle tug, a rusting metal bar came cascading towards him and he jumped to the side, narrowly dodging it.

"You can’t trick me anymore, Quentin," he called out, eyes darting around the room for any sense of reality. This was like nothing he had ever faced before and it was having an effect on his Spidey Sense.

"Who said anything about tricks?" A voice seemed to echo everywhere around him.

"I trusted you, Beck!" Peter painfully admitted, the betrayal in his voice heavily evident. 

"I tried to help you. I tried to help you see the light. But you wouldn’t listen. You did this, Peter! Tony wants to use your knowledge for his gain. It’s what he did to me. It’s what he’s done all of his life." 

The white walls began to simmer away with a blue flickering light, finally revealing the true location to Peter. It looked like he was in some sort of abandoned warehouse. He could see now that the floor was scattered with glass, debris and dead leaves throughout. The decrepit structure had gaping windows and old, damaged beams. His ears picked up no sounds or signs of activity outside the area and he could only wonder where he had been taken. 

His senses went off and he spun around, only to find he was now alone, stood in a sea of nothingness. There were no sounds, objects, nothing. Was he blind? Was Beck’s technology strong enough to wipe out his enhanced senses? Peter’s breathing began to hitch as he dared to take a step forward, trying his best to remember what he had just seen before.

"Wha-What is this?" he shouted, cringing as his voice reverberated back, getting higher and higher in pitch.

"You’re too good for your own good," Quentin jabbed, the response continuing to come from all angles. "It’s such a WEAKNESS!"

On cue at the emphasised final word, the black surroundings pounced upon Peter. Darkness shot into his eyes and filled his ears, nose and mouth. There was a grip tightening around his throat that he desperately wanted to scratch at, but his motor functions were growing heavy and stagnant. He tried to scream out, but it only sapped the little energy he had remaining. His levels of disorientation increased when he realised he was suspended in the air. Tears began to fall and for just a second he wondered if this was how he was going to die. Alone. Afraid. In the vastness of nothing. He was just about to lose consciousness when the grip loosened and air suddenly rushed towards him. He realised that the rushing air was because he was experiencing the sensation of freefalling, but from an unknown distance in an unknown area. He desperately wanted to cough and felt like he needed to splutter but the movement meant neither action could comply. 

"Time to wake up to the real world," Quentin taunted, as the teen landed with a thud.

Peter rolled onto his side, finally catching his breath from the fall. 

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the same black backdrop as before and a faint green air lingering at ankle height. With a groan, he heaved himself up as he took everything in. The ground shook from under him as the dark nothing transformed into unrelenting chaos. Buildings were arising from the darkness, some immediately crumbling before fully constructed. 

Peter was about to bring a hand to his pounding head when he realised he seemed to now be in his Stark suit. Before he could even try and compute how that had happened and why it felt so real, a swift sharp sensation caused him to lose balance. The scenery around him seemed to be moving at a rate as if someone had his a fast forward whilst he remained still, completely messing with his equilibrium. 

When things seem to come to a jarring halt, the teen could finally try and take in the surroundings Quentin clearly wanted him to see. It was almost apocalyptic, sky tinted a dark orange with greying clouds from scattered fires. Some of the buildings in view were ones he recognised from both Queens and Manhattan. He almost gagged when he realised that some of the rubble along the landscape was in fact bodies, engulfed in green flames that caused the air to feel stale and dense despite the mask. 

There seemed to be one path that he inevitably chose to follow, not trusting any of the smashed architecture around him to provide any assistance should he attempt to swing. All of his muscles felt tense as he felt changes to his environment under his feet that his eyes would perceive as nothing thanks to the villain’s tech.

"This isn’t real, Beck!" Peter yelled as he did his best to remain calm.

"Do you even know what’s real anymore?" Quentin asked, voice seeming to come from above now. "I don’t think you’d know if it hit you in the face." 

At those words, Peter felt a crawling across his skin only to find that the Stark suit was changing into his homemade suit. The way it glided was as if it were made of nano, which actually worked in his favour to re-emphasise this wasn’t real. With no real fight happening, it was clear that right now he was simply being toyed with, so he decided to try and distract the many thoughts racing through his mind. He focused on grounding techniques that Tony had taught him.  _ Tony _ , he thought to himself with an exhale. Would his mentor even want to rescue him? Did anyone even know he was in danger?

A frown bestowed his face, the feeling bittersweet that at this rate he would have to be rescued. He had just started thinking of Tony as a father figure and then Beck had blown that out of the water with lies. Would Tony ever forgive him? Would he be punished again? Would he even want an intern who for just a moment had doubted his intentions? Worst case scenario, no. Best case scenario, yes, but there would be more rules. There was the potential for stricter curfews, more protocols, or even worse, his suit might be taken away.  _ No.  _ This was not the sort of distraction he needed right now. 

"I didn’t want to have to do this, Peter but you’ve left me no choice. And to think, I thought we were close. I thought we’d helped each other. You told me you believed me. Now you’ve endangered the few people you care about."

Peter had to do his best to fight the bile threatening to rise as he covered his mouth and nose with a gloved hand. He would fight nothingness and visions all day as long as he kept those he loved safe. He hadn’t even considered that, in this fucked up situation, Beck could in fact very easily find out the few he held closest to his heart. That’s if he hadn’t already. He stumbled as his foot connected with a fleshy lump he’d been too befuddled to notice. Just about managing to catch his balance he turned to see what it was, instantly freezing at the sight. A guttural cry poured out as he took in the sight of Aunt May’s mangled body. Her dead gaze was looking directly into his soul and crushing it, his heart shattering into pieces. 

Peter collapsed before he’d managed just one step closer to her. Arms hesitantly reaching out, desperately wanting to hold her.

Despite the injuries, he was being forced to take in, it was every inch the real her. Her long, flowing, brown hair tainted by the dust from the beaten ground. Her glasses resting near her face, smashed and bent. She was in her work uniform, slightly scuffed ID badge and all. 

"You just can’t protect the ones you love. It’s always your fault, Peter," Quentin whispered from behind him and before Peter could even consider attacking, he fell back onto his palms as a zombified hand pierced through the landscape next to his aunt’s remains. The ground rumbled and he flinched at the sight, body shivering with utter terror.

"H-How c-could you fail us b-both, Pe-Peter?" the voice stuttered in a familiar voice.

"Ben…" Peter just about managed, his voice hoarse and pained. His uncle was in the same clothing he was in the night he was murdered, the blood stains on the chest in the exact places he had been shot. 

The heat of the fires around the teen had his lungs burning and skin flaring up. If the vision before him and assault on his senses lasted much longer, he was sure his mind was going to spiral into a meltdown.

"If you were good enough, then maybe they would still be alive." Quentin’s words stabbed through him, a proverbial knife straight through his already wounded heart. As the decomposing bodies of Ben rose from the grave and May’s body began to twitch alive, Peter skittered back. The teen barely registered; he was screaming as they both seemed to come straight for him. Unsure when his mind decided to surrender, the young hero came to a sudden halt as their pace increased, awaiting the wrath he rightly deserved. He tucked his legs into his chest and wrapped his around them, holding himself tightly and not daring to look up. He closed his eyes tightly and buried his head at the sound of bone scraping across the ground and the deathly rattle of his relatives as they approached.

When minutes passed and nothing happened, Peter braved a glance up from his now foetal position. He’d quickly tucked his head back down, through fear only to slowly lift it once more and realise that the world around him had completely shifted again. The teen gingerly rose to find he was in one of the hallways at the Avengers compound. 

Peter fought desperately with his emotions, not wanting to feel overwhelmed that he had been rescued in case this was just a continuation of Beck’s torment. He started to cry out for help, shoulders sinking at the lack of correspondence even from F.R.I.D.A.Y..

Then the faint sound of chattering had him spinning around until he spotted a group of people in the distance. As the young hero drew nearer, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of the Avengers. They were huddled in a group talking quietly amongst themselves. Peter limped towards them, confused at when they’d put aside their differences from the Accords fight. He paused just a few feet from them when he thought he heard them say that Spider-Man had been to blame for something. And then the words,  _ Peter Parker,  _ echoed through the hall. A panicked hand reached for his face, only to find it was no longer covered by a mask. Had Tony revealed his identity to the whole team? Maybe he had needed to in order to rescue him.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked coldly, a frown on his face as he glanced at Peter. In fact, as they all turned to face him, and they all looked more than pissed off.

"I… I don’t know what’s happening," Peter stuttered.

"I think it’s obvious why he’s here," Captain America quipped sharply.

"He’s trying to cover up this colossal clusterfuck of a mess up," Clint interjected as he looked out of a window at the chaos. The scenery from before was back.

"What? No! This is… I didn’t do this," Peter said, struggling to get his words out as his eyes darted around. "I swear… I… When did you arrive?"

"Jealousy only makes you uglier," Natasha scoffed as she shook her head in dismay. Peter’s mouth dropped as he watched them all. His mind was made up that the nightmare really was continuing.

"We get it. You really want to be one of us. You want to be an Avenger, but you just don’t cut it, kid. You’re too reckless, and just look at this mess. You couldn’t stop at Uncle Ben’s death? Couldn’t stop at endangering a whole ferry load of people? You had to take it one step further." Tony paused, wiping a hand over his mouth before removing his glasses and pushing the nano-housing unit on his chest.

"Mr. Stark… Please," Peter pleaded, tears stinging. As the older man began to approach him, the Avengers fell into place behind at a slower pace. "Please… Mr. Stark… Please don’t."

The face plate dropped over Tony’s face and his shoulder panels adjusted to send several missiles at Peter. When he turned around to run, the hallway was gone and they were back on the streets. When an arrow landed dead in front of him he jumped towards a nearby building. The teen dived off the wall and sprinted towards an adjacent house that seemed very much out of place. He couldn’t hold back the cries of distress as he struggled to dodge the incoming bullets and arrows that were whizzing by him. Peter knew he likely didn’t have time to try and open a door handle so opted to dive through a window. He dared to look back, only to stumble backwards when Captain America’s shield wedged into the window frame centimetres from his face. This couldn’t be real. The Avengers were trying to kill him. 

The floor vibrated as huge steps began to head his way. A terrifying roar filled the air and before he knew it, he was back on his feet and heading for a stairway as the Hulk crashed through the wall and sent debris everywhere. A bullet grazed his leg and he clumsily stumbled up a few more steps before being dragged back down by a massive green hand death-gripping his ankle. A huge, heavy hit landed square in his chest and he felt himself fly through the front door, skin grazing as it skidded and rolled across the road. He didn’t have a chance to catch his breath before it felt like hands were grabbing at him and then it felt like he had been bundled by a mass of bodies, his arms and legs being tugged at.

"You’re no hero in that onesie," a voice sounding like Tony’s resonated and suddenly the teen was free again. Peter instinctively managed to clamber backwards, completing a backwards roll to get back onto his feet. He could hear the sound of something mechanical firing up.

"I don’t want to hurt you… Please." His voice sounded so small and weak as his mind struggled to comprehend that he was having to ask for mercy from the people he looked up to all of his life. Peter startled when he heard the metal clank of Tony landing near him, peering up just enough to see the red metallic feet approach him.

"This is just a nightmare. It’s a nightmare. It’s not real. The real Mr. Stark will be here soon," he started to repeat to himself quietly, wishing more than ever it would stop. He was supposed to be the hero and yet he couldn’t save himself. If he couldn’t save himself, what chance did he have of saving others? Maybe Beck really was right.

"You think Tony would ever want to save a child like you? You’ll never live up to their impossible standards. I mean, look at yourself." Suddenly there were mirrors falling from the darkness above and he was surrounded as if stuck in a haunted house.

"If you were good enough, maybe Uncle Ben would still be alive," a grief stricken reflection of Peter declared. 

"If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn’t have it," another, more disappointed one stated. 

Peter wasn’t sure which point had caused his mind to snap, but after the whirlwind of questions, his fists tightened and he’d gained the strength to start lashing out. As luck would have it, one hit crashed into some metallic and part of the illusion around him faded enough to renew his worthiness to fight back.

"Boss. Facial recognition scans from a nearby railway line have a confirmed match on Peter Parker." Tony didn’t need to be told twice, immediately suiting up and watching as the HUD guided him to his destination. "Scans have also picked up Quentin Beck in the same area."

The last statement had Tony’s blood boiling. When Fury had called him and had to debrief him on a maniac running around with Stark tech and compromising agents, Tony had considered brushing him off. It wasn’t until he was informed that, without his consent, Peter had been selected for the mission that had well and truly gone tits up. So badly had SHIELD messed up that it had taken almost three weeks for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to finally spot them.

It had left him feeling not only emotionally drained, but so utterly helpless that he dared admit a former ex-employee was in fact outsmarting him. Now as he pushed his suit to the max, he could only hope Quentin was still about so he could kick his ass. And more importantly, he hoped his mentee was alright after being missing in action.

The first thing Tony saw as he arrived on the scene was Quentin Beck, dressed in what looked like a special effects costume and adorning a fish dome shaped helmet. He’d intended to get to Peter first having seen the teen be relentlessly attacked by what looked like high tech drones. They’d hit him with concussion blasts, slammed into him, and generally circled him. But as F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanned the footage, the drones slowed and Peter had started to fight back. Projectors within the vicinity had also been detected by his AI which meant that Beck was no doubt using B.A.R.F. technology and absolutely needed to be taken out ASAP. 

Tony flew into Quentin at high speed, delivering a harsh kick to the back of him that sent him sprawling to the ground. The sound of ribs cracking and the dome rolling away were satisfying to say the least. Before Tony could even consider flying over to Peter who was now visible in the distance, Quentin started to laugh maniacally. 

"You weren't happy enough with your own fucked up failure of a life that you had to destroy some naïve teenagers life, huh? Pretty low even for your standards to pick a gullible freak who doesn't even have any parents, Stark." 

"You weren’t happy enough with your own fucked up failure of a life that you are tormenting teenagers with shitty projection tech. Because let’s face it: you don’t have the balls to really fight someone," Tony riposted, barely containing his anger at the comments. 

"This is fucking art, Stark. The location was the perfect setting. My projections and lighting… phenomenal.” He’d paused to gesture a chef’s kiss to himself. The display of arrogance absolutely competing with pre-Iron Man Tony. "As for the director. I’ve had that little shit walking through a perfectly planned itinerary for ages. He's fallen for every masquerade because I did my research so thoroughly. And boy, have I reaped the rewards for that research. I have thoroughly enjoyed his performance. Tell me, Tony. Have you seen how his face twists in horror and anguish when looking at some of his worst nightmares? It's been spectacular."

The comment had landed him a solid punch to the jaw. Blood pooled in the villain's mouth but it didn't deter him from carrying on.

"He tried to sound brave. But that was practically drowned out and admonished by his pathetic whimpers of fear and gasps of pain. He's pathetic and wea-"

The second punch had been much harder, knocking Beck completely to the ground. With gritted teeth, Tony grabbed him by the grey suit he wore and simultaneously destroyed anything remotely looking like technology.

"You're too late. It's time for the main event," Quentin managed breathlessly as the bruising around his jaw instantly started to blossom and blood dripped from the edge of his mouth. His eyes looked behind Tony at the train tunnels where a dishevelled Peter fought with a final drone.

At the words, Tony's stomach dropped. The older man dropped the villain and turned to face the direction. For a split second, the teen was looking at him, the last trick inducing drone shutting down. The pair managed just a single heartbeat of eye contact. Despite the shortness it was enough for Tony to read him like a father could read a son. An intimacy that had taken months to build, and despite their time apart, remained undeniably. Tony could see genuine distress in Peter’s eyes. Sheer terror. And then, before either of them could act Peter was swept from his view and replaced with the sight of a speeding train. 

One moment Tony was standing on the ground, the next shooting into the air, a strangled cry escaping his lips. He frantically asked for updates from F.R.I.D.A.Y. as he chased after the high speed train. Peter had only been in civilian clothing plus his web shooters, so the AI was unable to be fed back any injury data. As he approached the tail end, she was able to scan the compartments, eventually isolating the one she believed Peter may have managed to get into.

Tony picked up the speed to reach the target before crashing into the carriage door and stumbling forward a few steps.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s complete scan had shown in there were very few passengers onboard, and thankfully they were on the opposite end.

He already knows the train has only a few passengers on, who are thankfully sat at the opposite end of the train. Tony's HUD indicated he had landed one carriage short of Peter so made his way towards the right door with haste.

As he entered the train carriage, his eyes darted around, instantly spotting bloody handprints on two windows to his right, one now open wide and letting in the sound of rushing air.

He just about drew his gaze away to dead ahead when he spotted the unnervingly still body of his mentee. Ice cold dread seeped into his bones, his heart feeling far heavier than it ever had in its lifetime.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" he asked, swallowing a lump in his throat as he took a hesitant step forward. Before she could reply a quiet groan escaped the boy’s lips and Tony found himself surging forward. As he drew closer, he could see Peter's face, slick with sweat as blood mattered curls clung to his head. His skin looked paler than ever as large masses of purple and blue covered the right side of his face. He tapped at his own chest and allowed his suit to return the unit. He squatted next to the teen and released a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding as he saw the small and battered chest rising and falling slowly. "Pete?" 

Peter’s eyes flew open, widening with shock when they landed on Tony. He let out a gasp and attempted to scramble away. He barely made it a foot before his back was pressed against an aisle chair, a weak arm held out defensively towards his mentor. His chest exploded with pain at the movement causing his eyes to clamp shut and mouth to fall open in a desperate attempt for air. Tony had caught his wrists when he’d gone to fire his web shooters. As hindsight would have it, he didn’t need to as they softly clicked in response having been emptied during the fight. His head slumped awkwardly as he tried to avoid his mentor’s gaze. 

"Stop. Is-Is that you? A-Are you real?" Peter's quiet mutterings were slightly slurred and unable to contain the alarm he was experiencing at having the older man clasping his arms.

"Peter," Tony tried before being interrupted immediately.

"T-Tell me something… Only you w-would know." He was desperately trying to remain conscious, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier as the feeling of pain coursed through his veins making his limbs shake furiously. Tony slowly shifted in his position, so he was also sat down on the train floor, the unease etched on his face unable to deepen any further at Peter’s request. The kid simply stared at him, bloodshot tired eyes seeming to look right into his soul as his head bopped with each agonising inhale.

The older man had honestly never thought he would see the day when Peter would look at him with such distrust. The very notion destroyed his soul at what Beck could have possibly done or shown him; it plagued his mind with all sorts of thoughts. His spritely mini-me had been reduced to a shivering and likely in shock traumatised teen, lying on the front floor of a train with barely any fight left in him. The rattling of his breathing and stammering of his words made it all the more heart wrenching but he didn’t want to push his luck. 

"Erm. Okay. You have an unusually attractive aunt who absolutely cannot cook. You continuously make me feel like the oldest guy on the planet by making an insane amount of pop culture references and always pretence them by saying the movie is old." When Peter's gaze remained unconvinced, Tony swallowed a lump in his throat. "I've messed up more times than I can count, and you've been patient enough to keep giving me chances. But I've endangered you just by allowing you to get close to me. That is the one thing I never wanted. I've not been the mentor you deserved or needed even when I said I would, and I've taken far too long to let you know how much you mean to me. It’s become less of a mentor and more… father figure to me and… And you’re like a son to me, Peter." 

After a moment's contemplation, the teen shuddered in relief, finally dropping his guard, not that that had stopped his mentor from keeping a hold of his wrists.

"This is really going to suck if this is still a nightmare," Peter admitted under his breath. He didn’t want to even comprehend that this was anything but real at this point. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Amongst his defeated thoughts however, a small sense of hope spread as he took in the grip of his mentor’s hands on his wrists, so gentle and comforting unlike the illusion. And rather than looking at him with a murderous glare, Tony’s brown eyes were full of concern, anchoring him to reality. 

"I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, kid," Tony confessed as he shifted in position and hesitantly took a hold of Peter, assuring himself of the boy’s presence. Although surprised by the admission, the teen gladly returned the embrace, aching arms moving lazily. He’d been unable to suppress the grunt of pain as his broken ribs grinded at the movement. But when Tony had attempted to move away through fear of him being the cause of the pain, Peter clung on. The sound of his mentor’s thumping heartbeat against his chest was almost enough to solidify the feeling of finally being safe. 

The feeling of safety, love and protection only served to allow exhaustion to overtake his debilitated body and Tony was quick to notice as the weight of Peter became ever so heavier in his arms. 

"Peter Parker, I need you to stay with me," Tony all but ordered as he inched away to see the boy’s eyes rolling back, whilst his limbs grew lax. One arm remained on Peter to keep him still whilst the other pushed the nanotech of his suit. 

"The quinjet is three minutes out, boss," the AI stated. With barely a response from his kid, Tony scanned him realising he had reacted so quickly beforehand that he hadn’t captured any data. "Signs of ventilatory insufficiency from five broken and two fractured ribs have caused pneumothorax and require urgent medical attention. Other injuries include…"

As his AI continued, Tony had already engaged survival mode. He was off the ground, Peter in a bridal hold pressed against his armour. He’d glanced down once to see the blue discolouration on the kid’s lips and the distended neck veins, the breathing rate causing retractions in his neck as he struggled. Moving towards the door he had already crashed through, he took off into the sky to meet the others in the quinjet. 

Clint had wanted to crack a joke when he had heard Tony demanding the ramp of the quinjet be opened. It hadn’t truly crossed his mind that he was about to meet with the flustered, bordering-tears billionaire cradling a dying teen. The moment had instantly sobered the rest of the ship with Nat and Bruce immediately getting to work as Tony laid the boy down with utmost care. They’d honestly all expected to find Spider-Man unscathed considering the intelligence that had come through. Instead, Peter wasn’t even in his suit. He was wearing a pair of plain blue joggers caked in dirt and red hoodie that was now being cut away by Bruce which revealed he had at least been graced with his web shooters. The team wouldn’t know it yet, but Quentin had dressed him in the ensemble to assist in the feeling of his home-made suit feeling ‘real’ within the illusion. 

Turning the controls on to auto-pilot, he gently pried a shell-shocked Tony away from the kid's side and out of the way of Bruce and Nat. 

"That guilt is gonna swallow you up if you don't get a hold of it," Clint stated as he directed Tony to sit down and took a place next to him. Tony's head had snapped in the direction of the fellow Avenger, eyes glistening with hurt and torment. But the sincerity in the tone at which it had been said and the look now on Clint's face told him he was speaking from experience. 

"Of all the shit I've seen and done, the biggest PTSD contender was when Cooper ended up in hospital after an accident. There were tubes and wires and prying hands all over my baby. And he looked so small and I was there helpless. My own kid, and I was useless to help in anyway." Clint halted for just a moment to make eye contact with Tony. The man's expression was a mixture of confusion and sympathy. "If you're even going to deny that you go into absolute dad mode when it comes to Peter then I'll eat my own boot. Not because I want to. But because I may have a bet with Steve."

Tony simply snorted at the comment, feeling bad that he was even able to smile with the seriously injured Peter behind him.

"He's going to be okay, Tony. He's a strong kid."

"Did Beck get picked up?" Tony deflected in an attempt to dodge the direction of the conversation. He wasn't ungrateful for Clint's support, in fact quite the opposite. But he was unsure if he was ready to vocalise with any of the Avengers how much he cared for the teen. 

"Yeah. He's in custody," Clint confirmed before standing up from his seat and heading back to the controls. He wasn't going to push Tony any further as he knew all too well how delicate the mind is at such a traumatic time. 

"Thank you, Clint," Tony said softly causing the agent to turn his head and offer a nod of acknowledgement. Turning to sit awkwardly in the chairs, Tony's gaze fell back to Peter for the remaining minutes of the journey.

Peter wasn't sure if he had fully woken up. Despite thinking his eyes were open, the room seemed to be completely dark. Too dark. The whirring of machines and his heart pounding in his chest were all he could hear as he slowly eased himself to sit up, gritting his teeth at the pain in his chest. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he instantly froze. 

Noxious green gas was seeping under the door and heading straight for his bed. Eyes darted around the room searching for anyone or even an exit. Instead his gaze met a pair of sprawled out legs coming, the body hidden from his view. 

Tentatively he leaned over to see more of it only to begin gagging at the sight of his dead mentor bleeding from a wound in his side. Peter was about to shift off the bed when he realised that out of nowhere, he was suddenly holding a gun still smoking as if it had just been fired. He tried to throw the offending weapon away but it was stuck to his hand.

"Help! Please! Somebody, help! HELP!" he sobbed, his voice bordering towards hysteria. He scampered back until he had fallen off the bed, his injured body screaming in agony. He could feel his tears running freely down his face and hear the echoing of his convulsive gasps as he cried and hyperventilated. His back finally met with a wall and he quickly made himself as small as possible, knees tucked into his chest and head buried. 

Peter instantaneously flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps as voices grew louder and louder towards his room. He didn’t dare look or listen, quickly slamming his eyes shut. When the noises grew intensely louder, he placed his hands over his ears and clutched as tightly as he could.

It was just Tony's luck that the two minutes he stepped away from Peter's side after hours there, would be the time in which the kid woke up. He had checked on him the moment he hopped off the bed, the middle of the short journey to the door and then as the door was closing all with the same result. Peter lying snuggly in his bed completely undisturbed and getting the rest his body desperately needed. He had just come off the phone with May to provide her with an update and was walking back down the corridor towards Peter’s room when he heard the first cries for help. He was already jumping into action, heart skipping a beat when the calls for help increased in volume.

Tony hadn't been prepared to see Peter huddled in the corner of the room, blood dripping from where he had yanked his IVs out and sheets messily laid across the floor like he had fought them off. He was sweating so profusely his skin had a sheen to it and his curls stuck to his forehead. The mixture of crying and heaving was putting far too much pressure on his delicate chest and Tony knew he needed to act swiftly. There were a few brief moments where he stared across the room at something, eyes wide and pupils dilated in fear.

Tony could hear the approaching steps of medical staff but placed a hand out, stopping them in their tracks when they rounded the corner and preventing them all from storming into the room. He wasn’t sure his limbs had ever shaken more in his life as they did when he gently approached Peter, managing to make out the quiet chanting of apologies the closer he got. His hand was just hovering over Peter's arm when the boy quickly looked up, eyes red rimmed and swollen. His bottom lip wavered when he took in the sight of his mentor and dove forward, closing the gap between them.

The hug was instantly soothing, jogging his memory that this wasn't the first. There'd been another when he was rescued. It felt warm, comforting, and full of love. His mentor scooped him up and started to get him back on the bed, wary that some of the IVs needed to be replaced as priority. Staying by the teen’s side, he gestured for someone from the medical team to come in and assist, eternally thankful for the speed and efficiency in their handiwork in reconnecting the necessary wires and redoing of the IV.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked as he perched beside Peter on the bed once the staff member had left the pair alone..

"Just… fragments. Bits and pieces," Peter whispered, eyes searching side to side as if the room could give him the answers he sought. He decided to start from the top in an attempt to jog his memory. "Quentin pretended to be part of some SHIELD rescue mission. Except he told me his name was Ben. He picked that name knowing it would be sentimental to me. When I realised stuff had been fake, I tried to leave. I knew I was out of my depth. I knew I needed help. I had the web shooters we worked on but they'd clearly gotten my suits. They managed to knock me out but when I woke up… Things get funky..."

"B.A.R.F.," Tony supplied, briefly eyeing up Peter's oxygen SATS as every sentence required a breather. "The tech with the projections."

"He hated that nickname so much. He wanted to kill you for it. He wanted me to…" Peter stopped himself. He couldn't bring himself to admit they'd almost convinced him to go against his own personal hero. Not that he would've physically hurt Tony.

"Don't worry, Underoos. I've seen the doctored footage. Even had the Avengers fooled when we watched it. Nat was going to kick my ass. I'm sure of it."

"He wanted me to doubt stuff. Doubt you all. And then, I fought back and that tech... I wasn't strong enough. And he knew things. And it was too much. I really screwed up."

"Hey, look at me. This is really important. You did not screw up. You shouldn't have even been put in this situation. I would do anything I could to change that, but I can't."

"I just… I just feel guilty that May and Ned worry everytime I go out and patrol. But then I also feel guilty at the idea of not going out and then something happening that I could have prevented. And then innocent people could suffer for that. I have no idea how to balance this lifestyle."

"I don't think any of us really do. And it’s hard to find the balance on something like fighting bad guys when their actions are so sporadic. Honestly, it’s rude enough that they break the law, but not even sending us a calendar invite… the audacity." That had the teen curling his lips into a small half smile. Tony simply watched as his mentee opened his mouth a few times, then seemed to stop himself and back out of whatever was on his mind. He placed a hand gently over Peter’s and simply smiled, letting the teen know he could take his time, even if he never managed to utter a word and fell asleep.

The teen was doing a pretty good job of maintaining eye contact with his mentor, despite the hiccups in trying to find the right words. It was a look he had seen before a few times, not daunting or pressuring in anyway. Even with a slightly arched brow, it was a kind look with his trademark crinkles by his eyes as he smiled kindly.

"Mr. Stark, I… I know I mess up a lot. But I’ve only ever wanted to prove myself to be. To be good enough for you to feel proud of me." Peter had been surprised at how hard it had been to disclose, feeling his cheeks instantly started to redden with embarrassment despite his mentor still looking at him, almost the same way May looked at him when he’d gotten a good report from school or had cooked a meal without burning a single part of it.

"Kid. I clearly don’t say it enough. But you have nothing to prove because I already am proud of you. Like literally chest bursting with pride, proud of you. You’re like… You’re like my legacy." It wasn’t very often Tony found himself fumbling on words, particularly when he had been rehearsing them in his head for so long. But despite the adoring look Peter often gave him, it had always felt extraordinarily daunting. Now he wished he had taken so long when he saw the way the teen’s eyes lit up. He softly squeezed his mentee’s hand as Peter digested the information.

"Th-Thank you, Mr. Stark," the teen muttered shyly as his eyes started to flutter shut despite his attempts to fight the exhaustion. "That means…so much."

"How about we start working on Tony," the older man offered. "Now how about you get some more rest, I’ll be right here, and then maybe, just maybe, we can hug this out."

"Can do," Peter accepted before allowing himself to relax into the bed, heart just as full as his mentors. 


End file.
